


A Greater Fear

by PurplePufferFish



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Character Study, Dark, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Heavy Angst, Maybe - Freeform, Past Character Death, Pining, Redemption, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Star Wars: The Force Awakens Spoilers, general dark stuff, he also hears voices in his head, he really just needs like ten thousand hugs, i am at home in my trash kingdom, kylo ren has a lot of issues to work through, leia really wants to understand her son, or what have you, ren is one messed up dude, rey is not a skywalker or a solo, there is no familial relation here, we'll see how this goes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 21:24:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5513789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurplePufferFish/pseuds/PurplePufferFish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years have passed, and much has changed. The Resistance toils under the constant threat of the First Order, finally, in a surprising turn of events, managing to capture the recently elusive Kylo Ren. Leia, Luke, and Rey handle the situation as best they can while the prodigal son retreats farther into the shadows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Nothing here belongs to me except for specific, minor OC content. Everything and everyone belongs to its/their respective copyright owners whether it be Lucas or Disney or what have you.
> 
> A/N: So this is a thing. Hmm, well, hello friends, and welcome to my newest project! I have this roughly outlined at the moment, and hopefully will make it a steadily updated work :) This was born out of my interest in the character of Kylo Ren, but also because I thought that they could have gone a bit darker with his character and portrayed him in a more complex manner, so this is my take on it. Also: Rey is not a Skywalker in this particular fic, as, while I feel as though that is the way canon will end up, I think it’s kind of a copout instead of exploring a potentially richer backstory.
> 
> While this is certainly not my first rodeo in the world of Star Wars fanfiction, it’s been a good many years since I actively contributed to the literary side of the fandom outside of some EU work, so I beg your patience as I become acquainted with this universe and all its particulars again.
> 
> Anyway, without further ado, here goes nothing!

Silence.

In the distance there came a dull resonance, the telltale, muted screech of blaster bolts that made known the skirmish that was well underway and spreading its affects quickly. Smoke had already began to drift down the unoccupied corridors of the gargantuan ship, clouding the air with the lingering scent of metal, scorched, internal circuitry, and death. Closer and closer the hostility came, invading the tranquility. 

Kylo Ren awaited the first enemy’s appearance with a sense of eagerness, masked and prepared to bring an end to the conflict in a swift and effective manner. His foot tapped slowly on the metal floor, the sound echoing through the hall much clearer than the sounds of the battle beyond. The lightsaber in his hand was gripped like the lifeline it was, a balanced weight to be borne with only the utmost understanding for its art, or, at least that was what he had been taught. Ren viewed the unique weapon as an extension of himself, an instrument through which he was able to accomplish his goals.

Something whispered to him from the deep recesses of his brain. The words were indistinguishable, but the baleful ambiance behind the utterances was clear. It no longer disturbed him – it was commonplace. The sinister whispering had begun in adolescence and followed him down the path into adulthood and his ultimate paradigm shift. Sometimes, however, when he was completely alone, the voice would make him feel as though he had lost his mind.

Ren ground his teeth together behind the mask, feeling the thrum of the Dark Side pooling within him. It started in his mind and traveled throughout his body, imbuing him with an effervescent fury that begged to be unleashed. He shifted his weight back and forth on both legs, growing impatient. When the first sign of enemy fighters rounded the corner, he hung back only just. Only did he activate his lightsaber when one of them had seen his black-clad figure standing past the conflict.

An instant later, Ren was upon them. A sort of hyper-awareness overtook him whenever he took a life – he saw the red, plasma blade sever limbs and pierce skin clearly, he fed off of the dying light in their eyes as their bodies collided with the floor below, broken and lifeless, and he used that pain and fear to attack the next individual to cross him with an even greater ferocity.

There were a seemingly endless convoy of Resistance soldiers attempting to overtake the First Order command ship, and as Ren cut a swathe through them, he made certain that not a single one that crossed his path escaped with their life. The next man Ren encountered attacked him with a large knife fitted into a vibrogenerator, managing to block the lightsaber blows. At the same time, another soldier had a clear shot at the Ren, who raised his free hand and immobilized the enemy where they stood. The man with the vibroblade had no technique, clumsily assailing Ren with wild hit after wild hit, and was easily disposed of with an abrupt stab through the torso. The other soldier in question met his end by way of fleet asphyxiation, and there, Ren paused, deactivating his lightsaber momentarily. The darkness within him condensed into a crackling ball of energy, temporarily dormant and waiting for resurgence.

“Sir,” a stormtrooper said from nearby, “we’re overrun. Awaiting orders.”

 _Overrun_? Perhaps they had underestimated the amount of Resistance loyalists...

“How does the nearest hanger bay fare?” asked Ren.

Another trooper withdrew a small holomap of the ship. The blue surface was dotted with red masses – heat signatures of both stormtroopers and Resistance militia. “Their forces have spread out across the ship, but the main areas of interest occur near the bridge and in bay one.” 

The closest hanger was bay three, a smaller entrance for any non-trooper guests that arrived on the command ship. It appeared relatively unrestricted on the map, but only direct observation would provide a truly accurate report. Ren considered his options before giving the order.

“I will go to hanger bay three and secure myself transport off this vessel. Further orders will come shortly after,” Ren said, already turning to leave the troopers behind. “Three of you, come with me.” 

The white-armored soldiers rushed to obey, falling into step behind their leader as he strode quickly towards his destination. His pace accelerated even more so when he was close, and from the observation window above the hanger, Ren took a quick headcount of how many enemy invaders were in direct sight. There were two clusters: one that actively fought on the offensive, while a smaller group gathered behind their proactive brothers and sisters, scrambling to lay explosives. The events had taken a calamitous but not at all unexpected turn, and Ren smoothly changed tactics accordingly.

To the three troopers he said, “Eliminate the subgroup from a distance without triggering any of the explosives. Focus your fire only on them.”

They rushed to obey, and Ren spoke into the commlink built in to his wrist gauntlet. “General Thiir, do you copy?” There was no answer from the standing commander of the ship, more likely than not either captured or dead by this point. Ren slipped into the nearest elevator and descended to the level of bay three, activating his lightsaber once more and preparing to cut down whatever contested him when those doors slid open. 

The enemy did not immediately notice him when he crossed the threshold into the hanger bay, but the glowing, red blade was difficult to overlook, and Ren’s reputation preceded him. The blaster fire was merciless; it was as if the whole Resistance population had turned their weapons to Ren in unison. He blocked the bolts with determination, slowly making his way towards the nearest transport. Two of the three troopers that had accompanied him were dead and the third was injured, weakly firing on the fading subgroup like he had been instructed. Ren’s lightsaber continued to deflect the shots as he reached his ticket to freedom, but he saw the grenade land dangerously close to him a split second too late to dive out of the way.

The explosion drove him back, separating him from his lightsaber. He hit the hanger floor hard – heard something crack on impact. His mask had been crushed inward and he had lost sight in one eye. His hand groped around uselessly as he tried to summon his weapon, but the pounding agony was making concentration difficult.

A mere moment later, amidst the sound of approaching footfalls, Ren lost consciousness.

The incomprehensible whispering endured.

…

…

…

All was quiet as dawn broke over Firrerre. The outlands were a wild and untamed place, the bleak landscape framed by endless oceans and mountainous regions. Among the hills and rivers on the few, large land masses that rose above the watery world, there lay desolate remains of a once thriving society. The native Firrerreo were a dying race, now clustered only on the northernmost continent in rapidly dwindling numbers. There was nothing to be had on the barren, Outer Rim planet, which was why the newest Resistance base had been able to remain in-tact there for so long. They had occupied the planet after D’Qar had sustained colossal First Order attacks and had been working hard to reestablish all they had lost in just two, short weeks.

Rey woke with a start, exiting her quarters and stepping out into the ever-increasing sunlight. She climbed atop a rise, perching on the edge of a bolder as the sun rose higher and higher in the sky. Large clouds dotted the horizon. In the distance she could see where the base continued and where the pilots kept their ships concealed under cover of trees, and beyond, the shimmering surface of the ocean. The last she had heard, the brave men and women who had set out to launch an assault on a First Order flagship had met success, and were currently dealing with the aftermath. She had yet to leave Firrerre since the relocation and was covertly thankful for a respite after all the work she had been doing to help the cause. Still though, she hoped her friends were faring well on the mission.

She stretched – the day was so young, there were such possibilities. Perhaps it was all the time spent on Jakku wallowing in her own cynicism that had made the transition into an environment where hope abounded easier, perhaps not, but over the course of the last three years, Rey’s mindset had undergone great changes. She could _feel_ the difference within her, subtle, underlying nuances of variance underneath the overarching consciousness of reality. 

It was the Force, strong and present. 

Her hand drifted to the weapon fastened to her belt. The lightsaber was her own; she had created it as had all those of her kind before her. The necessary crystals for the weapon’s interior were rare in this day and age, but after a long period of searching, she had found what she was looking for. It did not come without an understanding of how the old ways had evolved over time, her teacher, the great Luke Skywalker, had made certain of that. It was a thing of precision, something that Rey was still only just beginning to master. Oh, but she had come a long way in technique since her fumbling attempts to wield the blade in the icy forests of the enemy’s base so long ago. It almost seemed a dream.

Suddenly, a ship appeared in the sky, small and singular, but gradually grew nearer and nearer. It did not land in the customary location, but rather very close to where Rey sat. She bolted up and raced down to see what news the passengers had brought, joining the small crowd that had gathered around the ship. Murmurs traveled through the ranks, words like, “somebody find her” and, “maybe she shouldn’t know.” Rey strained to see what was happening, but the abrupt arrival of General Leia Organa verified that something of significance had occurred. Luke trailed closely behind, pausing at the verge of the gathering. 

Rey wove her way through the people before her to get just a glimpse of the goings on. The first thing she saw was Leia’s hands cover her mouth, followed by Luke hastening to her side, and then her eyes locked on the dark form that had been placed at the Skywalkers’ feet.

There, battered and prone, was the body of Kylo Ren.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you very much for taking the time to read this little endeavor! I hope to have the next chapter finished sometime this weekend :D I would love to know what you think, as well!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thank you all for the interest in this little project! I’m enjoying writing it and I hope you all enjoy this next chapter :D Note: I’m overlooking the fact that Rey slashed Ren’s face in the last fight scene, so, in this story, his face was not damaged at that point in time, though he still sustained the same other injuries. Also it gets pretty dark in this chapter as I started to delve into Ren’s psyche a bit more. Alrighty, enough from me!

The room was dim, the only sources of luminance coming from the medical machinery and a single, harsh light above a metal table. On that table was Ren’s body, caught now in a sedative-induced unconsciousness. The mask’s delicate removal revealed a particularly calamitous injury; part of the right side of the mask had been compacted into the man’s face around his eye and the amount of congealing blood present was no surprise. In addition to head trauma, body scans also showed that some of his ribs had been crushed as well. Most of the external injuries could be healed with bacta treatment, however the internal distress would take longer to right. 

Leia bore all the news at Ren’s side, seemingly torn between wanting to leave and wanting to be with her son, no matter what he had done. She did not need to forgive him of his heinous crimes in order to feel a mother’s instinct.

From the far side of the medical room, Rey watched the scene unfold with interest. Luke stood beside her, arms crossed and expression fretful. Every so often she would get brief glimpses into how he was feeling, but only rarely, for he kept his emotions guarded and she was not able to straightforwardly sense them. She couldn’t help but wonder what would happen next. The Resistance had effectively captured one of the First Order’s high-ranking figureheads, but Rey could think of no logical fashion in which to contain the fellow Force user.

“What will happen to him?” she asked Luke, voice lowered.

Luke kept his eyes on his sister as he answered. “He will be tried as a political traitor and murderer. Incarceration is the predictable outcome, but there will be many calling for his execution.”

Rey surveyed the events before her again. Leia appeared severely distressed when the medical droid told her that Ren would not naturally regain sight in his right eye. It offered steps that could be taken to artificially replace the nerves and reconstruct what had been damaged along with eliminating the scarring on the skin around the eye. Leia heard all that the droid had to say, her mouth pressed into a thin line.

“No,” she said at last, “leave it. He brought this on himself.” She stepped away from the table, adding, “Just make sure that he lives,” before walking out. Luke shadowed her, and, when alone, Rey cautiously approached the table, eyes narrowed. 

Kylo Ren had a different air to him, an atmosphere that lied beyond physical appearances, though, all things considered, he _had_ aged since the last time she had seen him, unnaturally so for the short three-year span. Perhaps it was the wounds on his face, but his countenance had the unmistakable vestiges of weariness found so many times in older individuals – _what had he seen_? But it was not these observations that truly perturbed Rey, it was the very ambience that encircled his comatose form. Something was amiss, she could sense it.

Rey closed her eyes and reached out into the Force, immersing herself in its currents. She had been honing her skills, and still had much to learn about how these kinds of things worked, but for the time being she sought only to emulate the action she had inadvertently found she could undertake all those months ago in her interrogation. On this occasion, however, she had the upper hand. She had so much more clarity.

She had barely skimmed the surface of his mind when the telltale coldness of the Dark Side hit her. It was a desolate feeling, simultaneously empty and fervid in essence. Brief flashes of unclear images flooded her consciousness, and she knew then that he was dreaming. Then, just as she was about to remove herself, the whispering started. She struggled to distinguish what was being said, but it was hazy. It came in such faint tendrils that she thought it perhaps was just part of Ren’s reveries, but it grew louder and louder and until it was a deafening roar. 

Rey gasped when a hand took hold of her wrist from where it hovered above his forehead, prying her from his mind.

There stood Luke, a grave expression upon his features. He released her wrist slowly, glancing at his battered nephew below as he did so. “What did you see?” were his words.

Eyes wide and mouth agape, Rey shook her head in disbelief. “I…nothing.”

Luke was unconvinced. “Nothing?” 

“I don’t know – I saw only small glimpses, nothing substantial, he was…dreaming.” She looked down at her hands and saw that they were shaking. The whispering and the lack of clarity in it had deeply disturbed her. Rey was not one to allow the unknown to frighten her – after all, she had relied on the unknown to survive as a scavenger on Jakku – but this was not something she had been prepared for. Meeting Luke’s gaze, she said carefully, “There is something in his head. I heard a…a _voice_.” 

The Jedi’s forehead creased, and he turned away. For a long moment he stood with his back to Rey, hands clasped in front of him. 

“What does it mean? Do you know what afflicts him?”

A wry, humorless laugh escaped Luke’s mouth at this. “He is deeply troubled, to be sure.” Another pause. He faced her again. “I do not know what it is that you heard, but I would caution you to not pursue it further. Instability is dangerous, especially on the Dark Side of the Force.”

Rey could only nod in understanding, lest she irritate him with the excessive amount of questions simmering on the tip of her tongue.

From the other side of the room, one of the more sentient droids warbled, “If it is advisable of you, Master Jedi, we will begin treatment before the patient awakes.”

“Carry on,” said Luke, gesturing for Rey to accompany him out of the medical facility. As they walked side by side across the base, he mused, “I have hope that his capture will move us a good many steps closer to ending this conflict.”

“But, Master, do you not think that Snoke will send scouts out to find him?” As soon as the word had left her mouth she regretted it. Luke did not wish her to be his apprentice, even if he was instructing her in the Jedi arts. He still carried the burden of what he thought to be his own failure from over a standard decade ago. He thought himself unfit for another apprentice and often seemed reluctant to even share the smallest advice. Rey respected his convictions and wisdom well, but sometimes, when she was not intentionally thinking about it, the title he did not want bearing down on his shoulders would slip into her vocabulary. “Ah, Luke – sorry,” she corrected gracelessly.

He dismissed it as he always did. “It is hard to say, and I do not make the mistake of presumption, but I would venture to say that that it will be some time before anyone comes looking for him, long enough for a trial.”

Rey said nothing, content to hang on to that comforting idea for the time being.

…

…

…

Adrift in an insensible oblivion, Ren dreamed. 

First, he saw flashes of his childhood, things that never occurred all those years ago, but rather things that he had always subconsciously longed for. His mother trying to tame his unruly head of hair at age four…Sitting wide-eyed in a large chair at a political meeting…Exploring planets with his father…Spending long hours in a large archive building filling his head with knowledge…His mind created a kind of utopia with these scenes. Nothing was wrong and all was as it should have been. There was no death, no anger, no fear, just contentment.

In the second wave, everything changed.

It was night. He was alone in a hallway, walking aimlessly towards an unknown destination. The walls, floor, and furnishings were black, but the windows let the illuminations of the moons through. His steps made no sound upon the smooth rock under his feet – all he could hear was his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. Unease was as a shroud over him.

The sound of children’s laughter caused him to whirl around, looking this way and that for the source. They seemed to appear in a cluster before him, continuing to laugh and fill the dark hall with noise. Their faces looked like they would during the day: lightened and easily perceived. The stifling blackness had no impact on their presentation. Ren found himself in the center of their games, caught up in an unsolicited whirlwind of puerile elation. He tried to shove past them all, but no matter which way he moved, they surrounded him.

“ _Ben_ …” came a delicate voice. All at once he was looking upon the face of an older girl clothed in white robes with hair the color of blood. He knew her. “ _Don’t go_ … _Stay with us_ …”

“ _Stay with us_ …!” all the children echoed, excited.

Suddenly, Luke Skywalker was among the children. “ _Stay with the children, Ben_ ,” he said, expression severe, “ _You keep them safe_.”

The Jedi began to move away and Ren tried to call out to him, but he had no voice. Only silence escaped when he opened his mouth. The children’s eyes held an eerie, portentous quality. “ _We know what you have_ done…” they whispered, then said the older girl, “ _Why is our blood on your hands_ …?”

Ren instinctively looked down at his hands, found them wrapped in a vice grip around his lightsaber. When he raised his gaze, all the children were dead, swallowed by the darkness. Only the girl remained standing, her white garb marred with blood and skin pale with death.

“ _Look what you have done_ …”

He backed away from her, but his heel caught on something, and he stumbled backwards, barely remaining upright. The girl raised a colorless finger and pointed towards that which had tripped him. “ _Look what you have done_ …” she repeated.

Ren followed the line from her finger to what it referred to and froze.

There lay his father’s body among the children.

“ _Stay with us_ …” 

The words echoed loudly in his head – over and over until they ran together and were naught but a piercing reverberation – and with a strangled intake of breath, Kylo Ren awoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, dearies! I hope to eventually write an actual flashback scene detailing what actually went down with Ren, the Dark Side, Luke, and the apprentice’s Ren offed, but for now I’ll just stick to vague dreams, heh. The next chapter will be full of confrontations between Ren and everybody and I am very excited to write it – just had to get some business out of the way first :P Anyway, please do let me know how you’re liking this so far. Happy New Year if I don’t get another one out before Thursday/Friday!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, again! Thanks for coming back :) I hope you all are enjoying it so far. I know I sure am enjoying writing it! This chapter has a lot packed into it, such as heaps of feels and the introduction to the B-story. Oh, man, I hope you all enjoy it! Thanks in advance for reading and I would be ever so grateful if you continued to give me your feedback :D

The first thing Ren noted when his eyes opened and adjusted to the bright light was that he had sight in only one eye. After that initial displeasure had come and gone, the second thing he saw was the blue energy field in front of him. He was hunched in a chair, positioned haphazardly there in his unconsciousness, and he sat up slowly. It took him a beat to recover from the dream experience he had just been a part of; his pulse raced and his knuckles were white from the violent grip he had on the arms of the chair. When he had achieved a calmer frame of mind, he took a better look at his surroundings. The room was small, a diminutive square, really, with an attached refresher room. There was no furniture - save for the chair - and he assumed it had originally been living quarters that had been gutted, probably for the purpose of holding important war prisoners in a humane fashion.

He braced himself on the chair and stood, taking inventory of all the areas of his body that protested movement. The most hurt was present in his torso when he breathed too hard, probably attributed to bruised or broken ribs, however, his limbs appeared functional and there was only a dull ache in his skull. Living to see another day looked promising. 

Ren approached the door of the small room, raising his hand and experimentally touching a finger to the wall of energy separating him from freedom. He was not surprised in the least when the shockwaves of pain raced through him, and was all at once thankful that he had only touched the blue waves with a single finger. He took a step back, rolled his neck, and directed the pressure of the Force at the barrier…nothing happened. He turned in a complete circle to see that he was surrounded by the energy – there was no obvious means of escape. 

Breathing out an irritated sigh, he strode into the refresher to assess his appearance in the mirror there. It was every bit as horrendous as he had expected: dark circles under his eyes, extremely disheveled hair, and bruises on most of the visible skin. The worst sight to behold, though, was the ugly gash that traveled from his right temple over his eye, nearly extending down to his jawline. The eye itself had turned cloudy, almost white, and the skin around what was sure to be a permanent scar without extensive bacta exposure was inflamed. Ren hissed out a curse when he moved his jaw around to test the level of discomfort, which, inevitably, was great.

On the bright side, he mused, whoever had overseen his initial medical treatment had _at least_ had the decency to replace his torn and singed clothes with neat attire. The brown apparel was not as fitted as his previous choice had been, but it was lightweight and clean. What he could not allow to pass to easily was the loss of his mask. The helmet was something he did not customarily remove save for when he was very much alone or under particular circumstances. Its security would be missed. 

Ren ran a hand through his hair as he crossed back into the tiny room, looked at the door, and stopped. Although the wall of energy was still in place, the door was open, and on the other side stood Leia Organa Solo.

Ren’s face grew stony, not blatantly expressive but still indignant in its stoicism. He did not go to the obstructed doorway, hardly even turned his body towards the mother he had sworn off. She stared at him for a long, awkward moment, taking in his subtle movements and letting her eyes rove over the face she had not properly seen in over ten, standard years. “Well…?” he queried brusquely when he’d had enough of the scrutiny. “What do you want?”

Leia’s words came slowly, “They told me you had finally regained consciousness. I…I had to see you. Make sure this was real.”

To this, Ren had no reply. He blinked once, twice, and then he turned his back on Leia and beseeched any higher power that would listen to make her leave. He was not so lucky.

“Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?” she pried. His fingers twitched with rising irascibility. “After _everything_ you’ve done all you can do is… _stand_ there?” Still he did not react, closing his eyes. She sounded tired, as if she did not wish to be talking to him at all but felt some moral obligation to try to make him apologize for his wrongdoings or some such nonsense. She continued to hound him. “Are you not going to even do me the courtesy of explaining _why_ you murdered your own _father_? For the love of the gods, at least give me _that much_ , Ben!”

At his given name, ire filled him. Ren swung around and stalked towards the doorway, fists clenched and snarling, “Do not call me by that name, I killed your son long ago! He is dead! _Dead_! And his weak father with him!” Leia did not move an inch. This only succeeded in angering him further, and a hint of the whispering rang out in his ears. He stood as close to the energy barrier as he could without touching it and said in a low, dangerous voice, “Do you know how it felt to finally rid myself of that pathetic excuse of a man? It felt free – it felt like everything I ever wanted.”

The words that fell from Leia’s mouth were unexpected, certainly not ones that Ren would have anticipated hearing after saying what he had said. They were tranquil and reflective. “When you were little, probably about five or six years old, we were out walking near our home when some muggers came up and demanded that I give them all the credits I had on me at the time. There was no one around and your father…” she trailed off, but recovered quickly. “Your father was away and I had told the usual guards to stay at the house. Well, of course I gave them everything I had because I had you with me and my first instinct was to protect you. When they had run off, you looked up at me with those big, brown eyes and I’ll never forget what you said.” 

The seconds between the promise of an explanation and the resolution were long.

Finally, “You said, ‘Mama, when I grow up I’ll be here to save you and Papa, forever!’ You were always such an honest boy – we tried so hard to raise you right.”

Ren felt the a knot forming in his throat and the subtle hints of the deep ache for comfort surfacing after what felt like a lifetime of misery. His mouth opened slightly, and his eyes were heavy. He did not remember his early childhood with much clarity, but a brief brush of Leia’s mind and the memory that mirrored her tale told him it was true. It seemed as though, for an instant, that Leia’s words had taken root, and he allowed his eyes to slip closed, but the wickedness within held too much sway. 

He buried the emotions that were threatening to affect him, retracting back into the fold of ice that the Dark Side provided. When he opened his eyes, Ren stood tall, towering over Leia, and stated, “If there is ever a time when this wall is not between us, I will kill you.” When, once again, she provided no immediate reaction, he pounded his fists into the veil of energy, snarling through the pain, “ _Do you hear me_?! _I will end you_!”

Leia’s eyes held a bottomless anguish, brimming with unshed tears. Even so, she stated flatly, almost clinically, “Your trial is in five days time on Chandrila,” then, she left.

As Ren separated himself from the crackling agony he was allowing to surge through him, he felt the other presence in the room for the first time. It was a palpable signature, and he looked out into the room beyond the barrier and saw Luke Skywalker standing silently in the corner, watching with wordless disquiet. They locked eyes for a moment, the prisoner breathing heavily and his mouth turned down into a grimace, and then Ren stepped out of the Jedi’s sight.

The words from his dream were still fresh on his mind: _Look what you have done_ …

…

…

… 

Poe Dameron craned his neck to better see up into the underbelly of the ship he would soon be piloting. It was not that the machine needed extensive repairs – or any for that matter – but he felt the instinctual need to assess and reassess certain areas before every trip lest he regret it later. He finished with the particular section and moved out from under the ship to stretch, swiping the sweat from his brow and unintentionally leaving a streak of grime in the wake of his hand. He sighed and scoured his forehead with his sleeve while Finn and Rey snorted at his efforts from where they idled.

“Yeah, very funny, _ha ha_ ,” said Poe, sardonic. “How about you make yourselves useful and open up the last panel for me?”

Finn raised his hands as if to say: “ _don’t look at me_ ,” while Rey hauled herself to her feet and ducked underneath the ship. “What is the purpose of this mission, anyway?” she asked, rummaging around for the necessary tools needed to unfasten the paneling.

“Finn and I are going to Coruscant to meet with a source that supposedly has information about the world the first order calls home,” the pilot replied.

Finn lightly protested, “I still don’t understand why General Organa wanted me to go with you. Need I remind you that the last time you and I were in a small ship together we both almost _died_?” 

Poe shrugged, slipping back under his ship when Rey had successfully detached the panel for him. “’Damned if I know,” was all he said.

“It could be exciting,” mused Rey, sitting down and hugging her knees to her chest; she got an wistful look in her eye, “seeing Coruscant after everything that’s changed there over the years?”

Poe peered out and exchanged a good-natured look with Finn, who said, “You just say that because you’ve hardly left Firrerre since we moved our base here!” 

She laughed, a welcomed and pleasant sound. There was so little of that, laughter, around the base. True, the Resistance did have its moments of levity, but in Poe’s eyes, the weight of the constant battle they fought left little time for lightheartedness. So he enjoyed the younger woman’s laughter as long as it persisted, living vicariously through the joy that lit up her delicate face, then set his mind back on track.

“Hey, Finn,” he said at length, finishing up with what he was doing, “you have your things ready? We’ll be heading out in a few.”

Fin nodded. “I do. I’ll go grab them.”

Rey stood and heartily embraced the former stormtrooper, perched on the tips of her toes. “You two be safe,” she ordered, and it sounded a lot like a warning. When she had released Finn she had a hug for Poe as well. He awkwardly wrapped one arm around her and patted her small back.

As she began to walk away, Finn asked, “Have you…have you seen him yet?”

She clearly knew who he was talking about by the flash of _something_ that flitted across her features, and she chose to simply respond. “I have not, no.” 

“I heard he finally woke up,” Finn furthered, and from the outside looking in, the edge that had taken over the other man was so evident to Poe that it was as if all the optimism that had previously hung about them had been sucked out of the air.

Rey looked serious but not entirely bothered. “I am sure the situation is under control and I would not worry about it.” It was in cases such as these that Poe was reminded of the power that Rey held in the palm of her hand. His eyes dropped reflexively to the weapon on her belt – he had seen what those things could do and wanted no real part of it.

“Just…” Finn searched for words, “just be careful, Rey, alright?”

Poe raised an eyebrow, wondering if Finn realized that she could easily best him if she wanted. She had a soft spot for him, though, this much was obvious in their warmhearted exchanges. It was like he was the brother she’d never had.

In answer to his request, Rey laughed shortly and said, “I will be fine, Finn, but thank you. I’ll see you both when you return.” And then she was fading into the activity of the base.

Poe observed the affairs for a blessed minute, taking in the sights and sounds that he tended to take for granted on a normal basis, before turning to Finn. “Go get your stuff. It’s time to go.”

…

…

…

As a Jedi in training – even under such a progressive, Masterless form of training – Rey was still expected to remain in complete control over every aspect of her life. It was not a horribly drastic shift in mindset, thankfully, due to many years of caring for herself in the desert, she needed only to hone her self-restraint. Whether it was in intense situations or something as menial as sleeping a healthy amount of hours, she exerted discipline over both her decisions and actions. 

Walking into the place where Kylo Ren was being housed was not one of those instances.

The heavily armed guards at either side of the door were under orders to keep the building secure, which meant that no one was allowed in without explicit orders. Fortunately, Rey fell under the very small category of people who outranked the guards, and with only subtle protest, one of them entered the complex code. Much like it had been when he’d been unconscious and under medical care, the room was dim beyond the door. When it closed behind Rey, she glanced back and saw that there was no way to trigger it from the inside. Drawing in a deep breath and releasing it slowly, she made her way up to the energy-enclosed room, taking care to keep her steps quiet.

The door was open, the blue barrier creating a slightly distorted view of the room’s contents. Ren was seated in the chair in the middle of the empty space facing the back wall. He had his head propped up on his hand, hair wildly irrepressible. That was all she could see of him, and she allowed herself to assume he was asleep.

But just as Rey was about to take her exit, he spoke.

“I can feel you,” his voice drifted, soft and tired. “I knew it was you the moment you stepped foot in here.”

Rey stayed back, well beyond the doorway. Her guard was in place – she would not let him in again. 

“You did not think it wise to come alone, did you?” he inquired, raising his head. He stood and faced her, one hand on the back of the chair. She took in his enlivened appearance, hardly different from that which he had presented as an unconscious man, but more animated nonetheless. His hair was longer, she noticed, and the scar he had sustained shattered the once young, oblong face. Her appraisal did not evade Ren’s notice, and he concluded, “No, I don’t believe you did.”

Rey could find no words to say to him, rigid where her feet were planted. He too remained a distance away. 

“How long has it been? Three years, if I am correct?” His dark eyes bore into her, roving over her face. There was a flicker of interest that came to life there, a sharp recognition. “Your abilities have evolved. I can sense the change in you. The power.’

“And you are no less the dark servant you were when we last met, I see,” rejoined Rey. The existence of the Dark Side in the small building was icy. Tangible. She could _feel_ its pressure surrounding her.

“ _Servant_ …? No,” Ren scoffed. “I’m unrestricted. Can you say the same for yourself?”

Rey contemplated the question, loaded as it was, and decided to drop it. She identified a potentially dangerous line to tread on when she saw it, and the question he had posed was unmistakably precarious. Inside the glorified cell, Ren shifted, crossing his arms and canting his head to the side only just. 

“Why are you here?”

“If I am being honest, I am uncertain.”

He hummed, gaze still firmly locked on her face. She felt the faint pressure of his consciousness trying to invade her mind and increased the strength of her mental walls with little effort. Gone was the ineptitude she’d displayed when he had first interrogated her, now replaced by a reaction that was almost second nature. Up went one of his brows, and with no sense of mirth whatsoever, he chuckled incredulously.

“Oh, yes,” he murmured mostly to himself, “your power _has_ grown.”

She was unsure of what she had expected when she made the decision to face him, perhaps anger, perhaps the cold shoulder. Whatever one could classify his reaction to her visit as, it was an entirely different experience than the other occasions she had been in his presence. With his confinement, the playing fields could be called even, and though Kylo Ren still possessed the same intense aura about him, being restricted behind a wall of energy where his instability could not be made manifest in a physical form effectively humanized him.

With these things in mind, Rey left him, then, abruptly and without saying another word. She did not need to – her curiosity, at least for now, had been satisfied.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for continuing to read this little project! You guys are the bees knees :3 I love and appreciate your feedback and I hope you are enjoying everything so far!

Rey had become acquainted with many new and different struggles since she had made the decision to abandon her life as a scavenger, but the nights, by far, were the hardest. She’d never once had the luxury of a real bed on Jakku, and most nights either slept on a heap of cloth scraps or on the sand at her feet. It had not been an immediate bestowment, as she had taken on the difficult task of finding Luke and convincing him to return with her, but when she had first been presented with a bed on which to sleep at night, she had been almost too surprised to use it, insisting that someone in more need than she take it instead. For two nights had she slept on the floor of her simple quarters on D’Qar before, finally, with the threats of people too numerous to mention, she spent her first night in fourteen, standard years in a proper bed.

Finding partiality enough with the enveloping softness to _sleep_ , however, was an entirely different matter. Some rare nights, Rey slept deeply, so deeply in fact that she had to be shaken awake in the morning when there was work to be done. She would dream during these nights, oftentimes just visions of inconsequential nonsense, but on occasion the dreams would take a darker turn, and she would awaken in terror. It was then that she would drag herself onto the floor by the bed and curl into a ball until she drifted off again.

Most nights, she was unable to catch more than a few hours of rest, about which she was extremely meticulous in attaining. Though her body had grown mostly accustomed to it over the course of three years and could function well enough, she wished desperately when she lied awake at night that she would someday – soon preferably – overcome the recurring insomnia. 

On the _one_ upside to her lack of sleep, she had many hours of quiet time to think over different issues. And as she lied there staring at the colorless ceiling, she could not get the matter of Kylo Ren off her mind.

She could still almost hear the whispering that had surrounded her when she had reached into his mind. What was it? What did the voices say to Ren when they spoke? Or could even _he_ not understand their words? She shifted onto her side as her thought reeled. Surely there was some way to approach the subject with him? Then again, their last exchange had not been successful in the slightest. Oh, of course there wasn’t! Rey huffed and stretched, as restless as ever and thankful that she had her own room. She threw her legs over the side of the bed, stood, and went to retrieve a set of day clothes.

The night air was cool when she stepped out, but the light of the moon illuminated the areas not constrained by tree cover. Rey stood motionless and took in the silence – there was no movement, no soldiers or pilots or droids whirring past. There was only the sound of the breeze rustling through the leaves and the intermittent calls of the indigenous fauna. Rey closed her eyes and breathed, her hands still at her sides and her feet firmly planted on the ground. She felt divested of edginess, finding peace in the raw tone of nature. 

She walked around the entirety of the base for quite some time, allowing her thoughts to roam where they wished, finding them generally more tranquil, but, for some reason, they kept straying back to the important prisoner. Rey simply couldn’t fathom his mindset. Considering the small amount of time she had actually spent around him, she could tell even then that something was… _unhinged_. The voices she had heard only solidified that notion. If only the current state of affairs provided the facile concept of walking up to him, asking him about it, and in turn receiving a truthful and edifying response. Needless to say that would actually involve _speaking_ to the felon again, something that Rey had all but sworn off.

She came to a stop in a patch of trees. From here she could see his holding facility in the distance, the singular, white light over the door shining through the surrounding foliage. Rey stared at the large, metal box, then eyeing the ever-present guards. The mixture of curiosity, annoyance, and trepidation rolled off of her in waves when she thought about venturing back inside and she repressed the notion quickly.

 _Having trouble sleeping_ …? goaded a sudden voice.

Rey was immediately on the alert, whirling in a complete circle with her hand on the lightsaber at her hip. “Who’s there?” she hissed, looking every which way but seeing no one. It took her pitifully long to realize that the words did not come with a physical manifestation, but rather came in the form of a voice echoing through her head.

 _Calm yourself_ …it instructed. _Your restlessness is easy to sense. It is a unique signature_ …

Her heart beat rapidly and she ran a hand down over her face as she came to the disturbing realization that the voice belonged to Ren.

The previous statement was not wholly ominous, posed in a casual yet prodding fashion, but there was something inherently unsettling about hearing the man’s voice when he was out of sight. Rey had only ever heard Luke’s voice in her head – telepathy had been presented to her as something that was to be used sparingly, as obvious moral issues could be found in reading another’s private thoughts – and even then it had only been under very controlled circumstances long ago. This was far from one of those circumstances.

She could do nothing but ignore him to the best of her ability. It was not as if he was searching through her thoughts, but rather seemed to be suspended at the front of her brain. This felt unlike what she had heard in Ren’s own mind, and she supposed she could rightfully cross off such an option from her mental list of probable causes of the menacing whisperings. 

 _I wonder why you cannot sleep_ …? he drawled again. _Is it, perhaps, because you have never been able to find peace under the teachings of Luke Skywalker_ …?

Rey gritted her teeth and glared at the building ahead of her, hoping that he could feel the look. She would not give him the courtesy of a reply.

_Has he been distant from you? Kept you at arms length? Has he not allowed you to reach your full potential? He did the same to me. He sees the power in you and it scares him…_

None of what he was saying was true, of course. Luke _was_ distant, but not for the reason Ren was implying. The Jedi remained somewhat cold at all times because of what he had witnessed – he avoided most attachments, reverting to the old ways in order to evade the wayward sense of trust he had bestowed on his fallen nephew. 

 _I could help you…_ The offer was light, kind even, the sort of offer that Rey would receive from a friend, but she was no fool.

Ren continued, _I see the potential in you. I could help you harness it under the teaching of_ –

And then, in that very instant, Rey finally caved.

 _I will not fall to the temptation of the Dark Side_ …she snapped abruptly, cutting him off mid-sentence, _I_ will _become a Jedi, and when I do, you will wish we never crossed paths_ …

The voice in her head that replied was dry, cynical even. _Your threats don’t scare me…_

Rey had had enough, and, turning on her heels, she started back the way she’d come through the trees, fully aware that putting distance between them would not necessarily work, but holding onto a sense of hope anyway. It was not long until the pressure in her head subsided, and she knew that he had decided to cease trying to communicate.

“And stay out,” she mumbled.

…

…

…

Coruscant had changed. 

It was not merely the subtle change that inevitably occurred in planetary cities over time, but a deep rooted upset of the entire infrastructure. The city world had degenerated heavily since the fall of the Empire, directly after which there had been violent riots that littered the main, surface streets in death. There was no longer a Senate present on this world, and the old, government building rose empty and ominous, dilapidated after thirty years without use. What was perhaps more ill-omened was the presence of the old Jedi Temple, profoundly rundown, the spires that once seemed to reach to the heavens crumbling under the weight of age. Below the surface, things were far, far worse.

Unluckily for Poe and Finn, that was where they were headed.

Poe remembered what his parents used to say about the planet’s glory days when he was a child – how everyone who was anyone would travel to the home of the Galactic Senate. He had never seen it personally, though he remembered with clarity how much it had been in the news after the death of the Empire. It had looked bad then and it looked worse now. He glanced over at Finn. The former Stormtrooper was regarding everything he saw with wide-eyed interest, and Poe had to remind himself that the other man had probably never gotten out much while under the First Order’s employment. 

“Hey, buddy,” Poe said, clapping a hand on Finn’s shoulder. “What do you think so far?”

Finn grinned widely. “This is the first time I’ve seen a city.” He watched all the different alien species travel by and marveled at the buildings looming overhead. “You can tell it was a nice place to live at one time.”

“Yeah, up here,” muttered the pilot, dreading the moment they descended below the surface. He withdrew the small datapad from the pack he had brought with him and studied the coordinates once more. They were to meet their contact at an indiscreet bar during a specific timeframe. Poe had no idea who he was supposed to be looking for, save for the fact that the informant was male, and would respond to a certain phrase. He looked up just in time to reign in a distracted Finn before he was run over by a particularly large Gamorrean. _Dameron, you’re not ready to be a father yet_ …he thought to himself. 

They reached the portal to the lower levels in good time, and after they had arrived at the specific level of interest, they boarded one of the trains that would apparently stop close to their ultimate destination. All the while, Finn remained amazed by whatever he saw, containing his infectious excitement but emanating happiness nonetheless. Poe caught himself wishing he had been blessed with such easily tapped – albeit slightly naïve – optimism. 

When they stepped off the transport, Poe looked at the datapad again, and when he had gained his bearings and sense of direction, they set off on the last, short leg of the journey.

It was dark in the underbelly of Coruscant; it was much darker than Poe had imagined. Most of the civilized people from the surface had disappeared, replaced by sordid characters of all types and heightened security. The pilot looked up to see the slivers of the sky far above and was reminded once again why he preferred flying over walking. He was thankful when he caught sight of the bar’s neon sign in the distance.

Poe and Finn stopped before the small building and surveyed the scene.

“ _Tipsy Gorg_ …?” Finn read the bar name aloud, scrunching up his face in distaste. “What a way to make people want to come into a place.”

Poe agreed but said nothing, walking forward. Several women, almost certainly prostitutes judging by their dress, leaned against the front of the building and called out to the two men. Poe ignored them and Finn, being as generally blameless as he was, smiled and waved. The inside of the bar was little different than the outside: dark and shady. There were only a few people inside, half of them female, which narrowed down the informant identity to either the Ithorian at the bar, the reedy man making out with a girl just inside the doorway, the Gran passed out on the floor, or the human male in the corner. Poe thought it safe to assume the latter option on the list was the one he was looking for.

He walked up to the table, Finn in tow, and said, “What type of drink would you recommend here?”

The man leaned forward slightly and replied, “I hear they serve a good Regellian draught.”

“I prefer Likstro but I don’t think they serve that here,” continued Poe. 

“Maybe try the bar up the street. They have a better selection.”

A beat of silence ensued after the exchange was complete. Poe took in the man’s appearance. He was slightly pale with shaved, brown hair and strong features. His voice was slightly accented, though from which region, Poe could not tell. He pulled out a chair and sat down across from the man, Finn following suit. He extended his hand across the table.

“I’m Poe,” he said, and gestured to his companion. “This is Finn.”

The man shook Poe’s hand. “I’m Hull. It’s a relief you both made it on time, I was starting to get worried.”

Finn stepped in, “No need for that. We’re here to listen to whatever you have for us.”

Hull’s eyes lit up, and he said to Finn in a low voice, “Were you a trooper?”

Poe watched his friend nod warily.

“I can tell by the way you carry yourself,” explained Hull. “I just defected a week ago. It’s a hell of a story for another time.”

“So you were a Stormtrooper?” asked Poe for clarification’s sake.

“I was, yes. I couldn’t take it anymore – everyone in a position of authority in the First Order is on a dangerous power trip. I have _seen_ things, horrible things that influenced me into leaving it all behind. That’s how I have inside information for the Resistance. I’ve been there.”

“Where is “there”? The First Order’s base, I mean.” Finn inquired, and Poe mentally congratulated him for cutting straight to the chase. Hull looked around again, visibly uneasy with his surroundings. “I was never stationed there or informed of its location,” added the former trooper quickly.

Hull nodded and answered, “It is located in the Betal system.”

“Wild space…” Poe murmured. Then, “What planet?”

“Not a planet. A moon over Betal – normally they aren’t able to sustain life, but this one…” Hull trailed off. “It has a very high stygium content that’s been concentrated into a planetary cloaking device. This place does not exist on scanners or maps and it hasn’t for years.”

Poe and Finn exchanged equally bewildered looks before Poe slowly said, “Go on…”

…

…

…

Luke Skywalker had not often seen his twin sister distraught. She was an immovable force to be reckoned with, commanding the troops with a vigor that no man he had ever met could rival, but ever since her son had been brought onto the base, Leia had exhibited a sadness that required none of Luke’s powers to see. When she was not in the war room or speaking to any military personal in any professional setting, she often stared at the wall in silence, a look of unhappiness written on her face.

It was not as if Luke was unable to grasp what she was feeling. He too had experienced the same waves of emotions all those years ago, allowing them to drive him into reclusion. However, all the time on his own served as a sort of second training period; he had relearned everything it meant to be a Jedi and had strove to bury all the guilt and remorse that plagued him. Granted…he did not consider himself fit to be a Master to an Apprentice any longer, one of the negative products of his decade-long bout of meditation.

Yes, as he watched Leia, even at this early hour of the morning, he understood very well the whirlwind of emotions in which she was caught.

“When will you stop blaming yourself for this?” he asked, sitting down across from her.

Her eyes were on the floor as she shook her head. “I can’t – it is entirely my fault. If I had just kept him home…”

“Don’t say that. It was the will of the Force that he learn its ways. You only did what was right.”

Leia looked up at him then, face pained. “What was _right_? Luke, he never wanted to leave in the first place! I sent him off so he would have a better chance.”

The words were new to him, the meaning behind them unclear.

“What do you mean?” said Luke slowly. “A better chance for what?" 

His sister appeared as though she wanted the conversation to end, dropping her eyes to the floor once again. Luke waited patiently for her answer, not wanting to push her. Finally, she uttered, “A better chance to fight the darkness.” 

Ah, that was it, then. Luke felt himself nod. Ben Solo had always carried an immense amount of darkness in him. It had shown as plain as day in both his training and through the simple way he handled life’s obstacles. The boy had often been volatile, prone to outbursts of anger that Luke had never been able to help him learn how to quell.

“There is much of our father in him,” he stated gently, regretfully, and she met his gaze at this. “I’ve always seen it.”

“Then there is no hope for changing him? He has to find the will to change on his own?”

“Yes,” Luke affirmed.

Leia heaved a sigh, saying, “I pray that when the time comes, it won’t be too late for him.” 

“Yes,” he repeated.

That was all that was said between them, the silence once again building its poignant wall around the Jedi and the general. There they sat until the light of the morning, and they parted ways to face the responsibilities of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again, dears! This chapter contained filler, but the next one…oh boy. The next chapter is when the story REALLY gets going. Stay cool, friends!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, friends! It is I! This update has honestly been a long time coming and has been written bit by bit over the past months. Honestly, the only reason it wasn’t out earlier than this was because I got stuck on a part of it for a couple months and couldn’t figure out how to work things out, but, as this update obviously implies: I managed :P I’m also super excited to start on some flashback/history scenes. This first one at the beginning starts with little Ben and I hope to gradually progress through time up to the point when everything went wrong! Won’t THAT be fun, hoo boy. With that in mind, much of these flashback sequences disregard canon material, so, they’re AU…? I guess…? Anyway, feedback in any form is always appreciated :)

_It was clear early on that Ben Solo was an awkward child._

_What he possessed by way of physical family traits was lacking: his dark, deep-set eyes were his father’s, yes, but that was about as far as the similarities went. His features were, for the longest time, seemingly too large for his face, and his unruly mop of hair had the tendency to grow at too rapid of a pace. He had trouble with groups of people and spent most of his time alone, alarming both his parents and close, family friends. What was worse was that he was prone to mood swings, possessing a temper that would put even his father’s now-distant Wookie compatriot to shame._

_But, for all the negative aspects to young Ben Solo, his mind was bright, he had all the makings of an expert pilot, and his feelings were strong. He was told as early as he could remember that these three traits were all a man needed to survive in the universe - that, and the heroic reputation of his parents to usher him along. He lived six, comfortable years as the son of a war hero and a politician, wanting for nothing and having all the time in the world at his fingertips until, one day, strange things began to happen to him._

_It was as if he was all of the sudden acutely attuned to everyone and everything around him – he could_ feel _the energy like waves washing over him if he concentrated. If he regarded an object with enough deliberate awareness, he could, at times, move it without touching it. Evan as young as he was, Ben knew that what he could do, this ability he had discovered, was special. None of the other children his age could move things simply by thinking about it; none of his private tutors could do anything extraordinary. He had never seen his father or mother do what he could do; all_ they _ever did was work and shout at each other when they thought he could not hear. He could feel twinges of their emotions every time they raised their voices: sadness, stress, even anger, on occasion. It was because of this that Han Solo and Leia Organa ultimately learned of their son’s distinct affinities._

_The argument progressed one evening as it normally did. Ben watched his parents, peering around a doorway with wide eyes. His mother was seated in their living area with her hands stiffly folded in her lap, his father standing and gesturing widely. As the young boy watched the scene unfold, he began to grow more and more unhappy. His small hands clutched the doorframe so tightly that his knuckles turned white with effort, and very abruptly, that despondency and confusion he felt turned to resentment. When the glass flower holder on the table in the living area shattered to the floor without either of the adults laying a finger on it, they both froze, turning their gazes to their son. He stood there, fists clenched at his sides with a deep frown on his face. His mother looked as if she wanted to cry while his father’s expression dissolved into something graver. They said nothing when they put him to bed, and he heard no more arguing that night._

_It was three, long days later that a cloaked man came to their door. He appeared familiar, but Ben could not place where he had seen him before, if that were even the case. The man embraced both his mother and father warmly, bringing into the tense home an atmosphere of camaraderie. When his eyes landed on Ben, it was as if they saw directly through him. The child gasped and instinctively sought his mother’s reassurance despite how odd she’d been acting since the incident. She introduced the man as Luke Skywalker, her brother and his uncle._

_“Hello, Ben,” said Luke, kneeling down to the boy’s level but not once looking away. “You have certainly grown since the last time I saw you. You were only three years old.” Ben could feel the man assessing him: it was uncomfortable and intrusive, almost as if someone were looking into his mind. It was all over as swiftly as it had started soon after, and Luke stood, saying to Ben’s mother in an undertone, “You’re right. It is true.”_

_His father cursed under his breath, dragging a hand down his face in a hassled manner. “So what do we do about it, then?"_

_“’Do about it’…?” echoed Luke, face showing disbelief._

_Ben’s mother cut in and looked at him. “How about you go to your room for awhile so we can talk, okay?” she nearly pleaded. He knew not to fuss when his mother was worried about something, and complied, but when he was out of sight, he stopped to listen._

_“How long has this been going on?” Luke questioned lowly._

_“Look,” came his father’s voice, more urgent than was customary, “We don’t know. The kid is smart – takes after his mother. For all we know this could have been happening for months.”_

_“Yes, he’s shown signs of intelligence far beyond his years for some time now,” added his mother. “But he does not talk to us.”_

_“Just tell us what to do,” snapped his father. He always sounded so impatient to Ben._

_Luke’s tone was imperturbable. “I had assumed you knew what the outcome would be?”_

_A silence fell over them, finally his mother said, “I did,” a pause, then, “I do. That’s why I contacted you.” Ben heard her inhale and exhale slowly. “I know what must be done.”_

_“You wanna tell me what the hell you two are on about, exactly?” Ben’s father interjected – the boy waited with itching ears for the answer, and the words that left Luke’s mouth in reply sent his mind racing._

_“Ben will be returning with me.”_

_That was all Ben needed to hear before he retreated to his room, falling down onto his bed, overwhelmed. His mother was sending him away? He did not know what to make of it – he had tried to be a well-behaved child, knowing full well of the turmoil that his mother experienced with her convoluted, political career. He could not wrap his mind around the thought of leaving his home, but at the same time, there was some, tiny part of him that wondered what such an adventure would be like. If he was to be sent away because he was different, did that mean that he would encounter_ others _like himself? The idea intrigued him, to be sure._

_His train of thought came to a hasty stop when Luke appeared in the doorway. Ben sat up craned his neck to see if his mother had accompanied her brother, but she was nowhere in sight beyond the man’s frame. He stood there a moment, looking around the space with interest, then stepped inside, sitting placidly down in a chair nearby. Still did Luke study the boy, not with such intensity as he had initially, but there was nonetheless a strange look in his eyes._

_“I know you overheard most of what we were saying,” was what he said when he finally spoke. Ben looked away, sheepish, but nodded. “Do you understand what is happening?”_

_Again, a nod. “I have to leave,” he stated. “With you.”_

_Luke leaned forward. Even in casualness this man appeared to have an innate sense of serenity about him. “You do, yes. But you must know that this is, in no way, punishment. You have a very special gift.”_

_Panic set in. “They told you? Why would they do that?”_

_Luke appeared to have an explanation on the tip of his tongue, but instead turned towards a model starship nearby, reached out a hand, and suddenly the object was hovering in mid air between them. Young Ben Solo’s eyes widened in realization at the true reason for his uncle’s timely visit, and all he could manage was, “Whoa…”_

…

…

…

 

Ren was in a resting state when everything began to quake violently. He stumbled out of his chair – hissing when his injured ribs complained – and went to the doorway, peering out into the small room; everything that was not secure was meeting the floor. There was a loud smash from above and the ceiling was significantly dented. Seconds later, the energy barrier crackled a few times and fizzled out as the shaking died down. Something must have knocked out one of the external generators. Everything had happened in under a minute, but in that small period of time, the opportunities for change had been exponentially multiplied. 

Staring at the doorway to his freedom, Ren knew he had only seconds to act. When he crossed the threshold and was not immediately peppered with blaster bolts, he visually swept the room for any objects that might be of use, having to move around to a greater extent to compensate for his new, partial blindness. Without his lightsaber, he had no physical weapon aside from the Force, which was the most powerful defense, but was only so effective when stopping shots from hitting him. There was not much to be found that could benefit him, and he ended up taking a single pair of stun cuffs. He was infinitely thankful for the large pockets on the pants he had been given, and deposited the small and probably useless haul into one of them, assuring that his hands would be free.

The next task would have been far more problematic for a non-Force user. He knew for a fact that the main door could only be opened from the outside, and thus, with his feet planted firmly and his back straightened, he reached out into the Force and applied the invisible pressure on the metal obstacle until it buckled and sparked. Raising it after that was child’s play, and as Ren had suspected, there on the other side waited the two guards, weapons positioned to fire.

“Good afternoon,” said Ren.

“Hands in the air!” replied one guard, wavering slightly.

Ren quirked an eyebrow and raised his hands in mock surrender before the guard who had spoken tensed up. “Drop him!” he cried before his body was bashed heavily against the doorframe, rendering him unconscious. The second guard followed his comrade’s fate before his finger could pull the trigger. It was all too easy. He approached now uninhibited doorway and surveyed what lay beyond. The enemy base was in disarray. Uprooted trees lay everywhere, and many of their ships had been crushed. There was also a great rift in the earth not far away, and many were helping their fallen comrades out of the chasm. Ren wasted little time in using the enemies’ diversion for his own benefit, for time had an odd sense of impartiality, it seemed. 

He stole around the side of the temporary containment facility, moving quietly and swiftly into the covering of trees beyond. His good eye was wary as it scanned the surrounding landscape for enemy life forms as well as any form of transport by which he could flee. Always at the edge of his mind was the creeping dread that he would, by chance, cross paths with Luke Skywalker; there was no leverage to be had, nor did he possess any sort of weapon. At this thought, he could feel the low hiss of that all too familiar, inexplicable whispering begin to itch in the back of his mind, as if daring him to play the impassioned martyr for his cause and seek out the man himself to end what he had started all those years ago.

Ren set his jaw and hastened his pace, willing his legs to trudge faster through the undergrowth. One hand gripped the part of his torso that was causing him the most pain and the other moved impeding brush out of the way. Up ahead was a line of ships, currently unguarded from what he could see of them. He was no fool, though. He knew he had only moments to make his escape before word of his containment breach spread throughout the whole base. In no time, the area around every possible means of transport would be on lockdown, swarmed with military personnel. He had to act _now_.

When he reached the edge of the wooded area, he stopped, crouching low in the concealing foliage. His gaze swept over each and every ship before him, looking for any signs of movement in or around them. The only potential threat to be seen out there was an astromech droid, an older model with no astounding sense of sentience that Ren could recall. Behind the ships was a steep rock face, creating a kind of natural backdrop, however there was no chance for enemies to be atop it, and he disregarded its presence for the time being. He waited only a few more seconds before he jumped from his hiding place and headed straight for a _Theta_ -class shuttle in a near sprint. He was almost close enough to touch the ship when a voice slowed his feet.

“Stop, or we shoot!” 

A cluster of soldiers had their weapons trained on him. He scowled, feeling the anger he had tried to hard to learn to control starting to simmer beneath the surface as the whispering in his head grew louder. His ribs started to ache more under the threat of duress, and he forced his arm to drop to his side, concealing any signs of injury. How he yearned to have his lightsaber in hand, to be able to _do_ something about the imminent threat to his freedom. But then…

“Don’t shoot! He stays unharmed!” came another voice from the opposite direction. It sounded tired and hassled, as if it took every fiber of energy in their being to say those four words at a volume above a normal speaking tone. Ren turned to see that the voice belonged to Leia, who stood a short distance away, small and alone until two of the soldiers rushed to flank her.

Ren remained next to the shuttle and stated impassively, “Are you expecting _gratitude_ for that command, General Organa?”

Leia frowned, opening her mouth to reply, but Ren cut her off.

“Oh, I understand now. You thought that if you had your men spare my life that I would conveniently forget the promise I made to you the last time we spoke. Is that it?” He watched her frown deepen. “I think it is.”

“I could never let them harm my son,” she stated resolutely, “no matter how far he has fallen.” When she began to approach him and the two enemy fighters started to follow, she motioned for them to stay where they were. “What are you doing…?” she went on to ask, disappointment seeping into her tone. He towered over her, aware that height was his only form of intimidation without a weapon and his normal attire at this point.

Ren contemplated the general briefly he made an unpremeditated decision. It happened in less than a second: he took hold of the general and spun her around, his hands resting on her neck. All the soldiers had created a kind of semicircle around them, the rocky backdrop behind the ships leaving for no chance of complete surrounding; all weapons were raised.

“Call off your men.” When Leia said nothing to stop the soldiers, he raised his voice. “ _Call them off or you will die_.”

“Let her go or you get a bolt through your skull,” warned one of the soldiers.

“No, no!” snapped Leia. “Lieutenant, he would never – “

Ren ground his teeth in irritation as she spoke, anger growing by the minute. The whispering in his head was almost deafening. “Lower your weapons!” he shouted, interrupting her, “Lower them or I break the General’s neck!”

“If you kill me now there will be nothing to stop them from killing _you_ ,” she responded calmly, almost impatiently. “I know you probably think that you’re some sort of untouchable _leverage_ to us to defeat the First Order, but after they lock you away, you _will_ be there for good,” The fingers on her neck tightened and she said to the troops, “Do as he says. It will be fine.” He watched them all reluctantly obey, then again to Ren she said with no amount of tolerance, “And stop holding on to me so damn hard, _Ben_.” 

He started to snarl petulantly, “Don’t call me – “ 

“Let her go!” interjected another, recognizable voice. There stood the scavenger girl-turned-Jedi, Rey, a short distance away, all turbulence and hesitance mixed into one. 

Ren eyed her enquiringly, the inactive lightsaber in her hand unintimidating. “You’re in no position to be giving me orders,” he said. “Put the lightsaber on the ground.” 

She glared and did not move to do as he ordered.

“Do you not see what is happening right now, _girl_?” hissed Ren. “Do you not see how I could take her life at any _second_? Drop the lightsaber!” 

It seemed as if she was going to continue being stubborn, but Rey slowly leaned down and placed her weapon on the ground at her feet. Instantaneously, Ren withdrew one hand and summoned the lightsaber to his palm. The _whump_ it made as it met with his hand was eerily satisfying in the silence. Now, he held the handle near the general’s neck, finger hovering over the button that would trigger the blade.

…

…

…

Rey had not exactly known what to expect when she came upon the cluster of soldiers. Yes, she presumed it would have something to do with Ren, for whom else on base warranted the attention of a large group of Resistance fighters? However, she was shocked to find General Organa at his mercy when she observed the scene. The looming, escaped prisoner had his hands around her throat and a nearly feral look in his eye as he used his own mother as leverage. Despite the tense situation, and to Rey’s surprise, Leia did not appear overly flustered by her wayward son’s antics.

When he commanded that she relinquish her lightsaber, Rey was fully prepared to fight, not positive how in the moment, but optimistic that she would be able to figure something out. But then he had spoken again, reminding her of the unpredictable nature of the situation, and she realized that even with the extensive training she had undergone and was still undergoing, she saw no other options that she could singlehandedly assume. And so she had placed her most prized possession on the ground – it had felt heavy as it rolled off her fingertips into the grass. Rey stood tall and did not flinch as Ren extended a hand, causing the lightsaber to fly through the air well out of her reach.

“And what will you do now, if I may be so bold as to ask?” she scathed, feeling her brow furrow in anger and perplexity.

Ren gave her a look that read ‘ _are you dense_?’ and Leia elucidated, “I would assume he’s planning on taking me to Snoke.” Rey clenched her fists and took a step towards the two of them, and in response, Ren activated the lightsaber perilously close to the general’s throat. The green blade hummed ominously.

“Her blood is on your hands if you come one step closer,” he warned. Off to the side, one, brave soldier silently lifted his gun and chanced a head shot. Like lightening, Ren whipped around and deflected the bolt, still keeping Leia in place with one hand. “I think that’s our cue to leave, _mother_ ,” he spat, forcing her to turn in a circle with him as he watched all the soldiers.

It was then that Rey’s voice seemed to speak on its own accord, the words being driven from her mouth with a resoluteness that she could not have possibly produced in that moment on her own volition.

“No! Take me instead!”

When he whirled to face her, the look on Leia’s face nearly broke her. Ren’s eyes narrowed. “ _What_? And why would I do that?”

“I know everything the General knows. I have been present for nearly every meeting and briefing. I have all the plans and names in my mind.” 

Ren shifted, appearing torn. “You’re bluffing…”

Rey could sense the conflict in him, had _been_ sensing it the moment she perceived the situation. If she could only drawl his attention away from Leia, then perhaps there was a chance that the Resistance leader would walk away from this confrontation unscathed and free. “Search my mind – I am not lying. You will see.” Almost immediately she felt the pressure of his consciousness sweeping over the information she allowed him to see, useless plans that would do his cause no good in the long run but had enough substance to prove her claim truthful.

She continued, quieter, more conversational in tone, “I could be of more use than her – you said it yourself, my powers have grown. Can you not imagine how your leader would praise you if you brought him a Force user…the _sole student_ of Luke Skywalker?” Rey witnessed a change in his expression; it now spoke of avarice and the desire for approval from his Master. She knew that either option would bring him the praise he sought, but whether or not he chose to let Leia go remained to be seen.

His stare was unwavering, like he was trying to see through whatever guise she was putting up, but there was none to be found. Rey’s intentions were selfless – they were meant to save the cause and nothing else, and even a fool could see it. Leia shook her head faintly, still in disbelief of what the young, impending Jedi had said. Rey forced herself to stand even straighter still, keeping her breathing even and maintaining an expression of composure.

After a tense moment, Ren said, “So be it, then.”

The lightsaber remained activated and he jostled Leia towards Rey. When the three of them were standing close, Ren slipped out from behind the general and took up the same stance behind Rey. The soldiers near her hurried to get out of the way, still obeying their leader’s orders with the recent death of their comrade fresh on their minds. Rey repressed a shudder as her own blade was brought within inches of her face. “I will not fight you, and neither will these men. Retract the blade,” she succeeded in uttering. Leia’s sigh of relief when the weapon was deactivated was subtle but perceptible. “Are you alright?” she asked the older woman, looking her over briefly for any signs of injury.

“Enough of this,” Ren said brusquely, withdrawing a pair of stun cuffs. He held them out to Leia and said lowly, “Cuff her.”

Rey offered up her wrists willingly, having nowhere to go, her back pressed flush against the planes of the escaped prisoner’s torso. She could feel him breathing, the hammering of his heartbeat behind her – he was anxious, desperate to escape this corner into which he had unwittingly backed. Leia was quick in clicking the cuffs around her wrist, and despite her acute awareness to the situation at hand, Rey couldn’t help the cloud of sudden helplessness that settled over her at the state of restraint. Now, even if she were to attempt to fight back, the cuffs would automatically tighten on her wrists, even sending electric shocks through her if she acted poorly enough. The Force could not help her physical state now; she would have to become fully reliant on her mind and what she had learned to help find a way out of the predicament for which she had just volunteered. 

When Rey was secure, the man behind her gave a none-too-gentle jerk on her shoulder, indicating she move backwards with him. As Ren triggered the shuttle’s entrance ramp, eyes not leaving the soldiers gathered for more than a millisecond at a time, Rey said to Leia, “General, tell Luke that I’m sorry – “ she was cut off as Ren took hold of her arm in a vice grip and all but jostled her up the ramp. Still, she managed to voice down, “Tell him for me?”

Leia, face filled with indescribable worry and hands wrung, managed to dip her head in a nod. She could not bring herself to speak. That glimpse of the general was the last Rey got before she found herself in the shuttle. When the ramp closed, claustrophobia set in as Ren left her outside the cockpit and started manipulating the controls, once more keeping a close eye on his enemies below. 

When the ship lifted off the ground and the surface of Firrerre grew smaller and smaller, the true weight of the predicament in which Rey had unwittingly ensconced herself took effect, and she had to sit down. The metal walls of the ship suddenly felt claustrophobic and the man in the cockpit seemed far more intimidating. For a dark moment, she wondered if this was it; she wondered if she was going to die.

What had she just done…?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, dears! I have a lot of ideas for the next one so hopefully it won’t be too long until the next update!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Here's another chapter! Kind of a lot happens in this one, but a lot is yet to come! I’m pretty relieved I got this done before I head back to school in a few days, to be honest. I probably won’t have very much time to write while I’m there, as I’m going to be a full-time film student but I’ll try my best to write when I have time! Thank you so much for reading! As always, let me know what you think :)

Ren set a course for the Betal system before he had even left Firrerre’s atmosphere, all the while keeping his senses alert. There was no need for any complications from the foolishly willing hostage beyond the cockpit, stun cuffs in place or not.

He went into hyperspace as soon as he had finished running some preliminary, internal scans for any sort of tracking devices; it was obvious, thankfully, after such that this vessel was relatively unused and had not been outfitted with any surveillance technology. As the time passed, he grew more and more agitated about returning to the First Order’s ranks, fearing that the Supreme Leader would think him weak – at least he would have a captive to cement his allegiance once more, but his injuries were not so easily hidden. He could practically feel his ribs pulsing with the hurt the strain he had put his body through had caused and determined to seek out supplementary care as soon as an opportunity presented itself. At least the whispering in his head had ceased for the time being. 

He made quick work of attempting to make contact with his comrades. The Knights of Ren is what the Supreme Leader had called them, six fighters who operated covertly under Ren himself. The Resistance knew not of their existence, he had toiled to keep it that way, and never had them accompany him on missions, their secrecy in tact. It would feel good to train with them once more after he had recovered, Ren thought as he finished entering the signal coordinates. The message was answered in little time, a male voice coming from a speaker on the control consol. 

“ _Ren_? _Ren_ , _is that you_?” the voice said. “ _Are you well_ , _sir_?”

“Yes,” he said to both questions. “Where is my second in command?”

 A pause. “ _Indisposed_ _at the moment_. _Shall I relay a message for you, sir_?”

“No need for that, I’m en route now.” Then he added, “Send word of my arrival. I have a prisoner.”

“ _I will do that_. _Good to know you’re alive_ , _Ren_.”

Ren cut the transmission then, having no more to say. He had surmised earlier that the Knights had continued to operate in his absence, it was only natural, but the voice on the other end of the transmission had sounded… _surprised_ that he was still alive. He shook his head, weary but aware there was much work to be done once he arrived back on base. Then there was the matter of his hostage situation.

He took a moment to glance back through the cockpit’s entrance, noting the young woman’s distance and posture. She sat upon the floor, legs crossed and eyes closed with her cuffed hands placed gently in her lap, meditating no doubt. She’d said nothing since the shuttle had taken off, and while this caused Ren no bother, he had to wonder if Rey had taken to disassociating, her grand gesture of martyrdom for General Organa a spur of the moment decision that she had come to regret. Just as well, her tenacity _would_ ultimately lead to an unpleasant fate, and so Ren regarded her detachment with a certain amount of understanding. He would have to decide where to temporarily keep her later.

As he turned back to the controls, staring out into the vastness of space before him, his thoughts visited the recent past, attempting to formulate a valid explanation for it all. If and when he presented himself before the Supreme Leader, he would need to have his facts straight, and while Kylo Ren lacked tactlessness, the prospect of explaining his unplanned absence to the powerful being had its dangers. After he had mulled over various scenarios, he concluded to keep his report concise and stress the fact that he had taken Luke Skywalker’s student prisoner; this was sure to please the First Order’s leader. He then hoped with every shred of optimism he possessed that General Hux – with his obvious and bitter resentment of Ren – would not be present to blow it all to hell.

All at once he was aware of the presence behind him, and did not turn to look at her. She stood there in silence, appearing to be gazing out into the unfathomable distance before them just as Ren did. She was bolstering her courage, this much was apparent, for he had felt the waves of fear crashing over her when she had realized what she had done, it was no secret. He was also aware that his hand was once again applying pressure to his aching torso, and slowly moved it away. He was not fond of the idea of her knowing he was in a somewhat damaged state. Unfortunately for him, she was perceptive. 

“You’re hurt,” Rey stated, and only then did he look back at her. His altered depth perception was still taking some getting used to. 

“I’m fine,” he replied, tone clipped. Her eyes trailed over the scar on his face and then down to his ribs. He realized in that moment, when attention was centered on his injuries, that he felt rather feverish. He could _feel_ droplets of sweat making a steady descent down his forehead but paid them no attention. No need to let her catch wind of any physical tribulations, he had to remain secure.

“Oh, that’s rich! I have seen pieces of pulverized metal in the desert look better than you,” she quipped, and when he looked at her to glare again she went on to state, “You’re distressed. You do not know if your Master will take you back.” He set his jaw and turned sharply back to face straight ahead. “That is the problem, is it not?”

His lack of reply was damning, he knew this well, but his temper was merciless, and now was not the time to partake in a bout of anger. Rey studied him a moment longer before stepping away and turning her intrusive attention elsewhere. Ren let out a calming breath, confident that, as long as those cuffs stayed firmly around her wrists, he would maintain his control over the situation. That was not to say he viewed her as much of a threat _without_ the restraints, not any longer at least, but vigilance was not to be discounted, especially when Jedi were involved. Such watchfulness quickly became tiresome – the galaxy was certainly better off without the lot of them…

The trip to the Betal moon for which the First Order had claimed its base proceeded far more expeditiously than Ren could have predicted. He had come and gone from the moon enough to be more than competent regarding the planetary cloaking device, and, as such, he had no problem knowing where to pilot the shuttle. It was clear straight away as well that the First Order’s navy was absent, no visible traces of warships present around the hidden, natural satellite. Rey appeared at the entryway to the cockpit once more, observing the desolate surface coming into view. The oxygen levels were a bit high, but not so much that adjusting to them – especially inside the buildings themselves – was inconvenient in any way. Ren breathed a sigh of relief when the shuttle touched down, triggering the exit ramp and then power off the ship in its entirety.

When he stood up, his vision flashed to black for an instant, his sense of balance lacking and his body aching with every, tiny movement. He forcefully took hold of Rey’s arm in a grip that was nearly vice-like, taking large strides towards the exit ramp. Ren _willed_ his free hand to stay at his side instead of clutching the area over his ribs. Instead, he took up her lightsaber, holding it close and making a successful effort not to stumble on his way out of the ship, the girl in tow. Immediately, a cadre of stormtroopers, all clearly informed of his arrival met him and he unceremoniously transferred Rey into their custody.

“Take the prisoner to the detention block until I determine what will become of her,” he said, noting that his voice came out a bit strained. He would have to mend that. For a brief moment, he locked eyes with Rey as she was being escorted away, seeing the flashes of fear therein. She did not say a word, and after that moment had passed, she took one, last look at her lightsaber in his hand, her expression hardening, and she squared her shoulders and proudly strode across the hanger bay floor amongst the troopers. Ren watched until they were gone, and subsequently deeply inhaled and exhaled – he was finally in the clear, he was finally somewhere secure. He made the decision that his current garb would be the first to go, that way he could assess his own body’s ailments before seeking out medical attention.

His quarters seemed light years away, and by the time he had shut himself inside, he could scarcely remain upright. Ren could not even summon the strength to take in his living space again – he had, after all, already been away from the base for weeks before his untimely capture. Feeling an irksome sense of déjà vu, he placed Rey’s lightsaber on his bed and walked to the set of drawers that contained his normal clothing. When he had withdrawn the necessary articles, he made his way into the attached refresher. The lights activated automatically, bright and unforgiving, and Ren blinked as his good eye struggled to adjust. The scar seemed to be on its way to healing, but the rest of his face was still pale and gaunt; he needed to find nourishment, but first things first. With no small amount of struggling, he stripped off the brown shirt he had now come to see as prison uniform and studied what was underneath.

Yes, that was his body, but the mottled bruises and artificially healed scars were nothing of his knowledge. In several areas, it appeared that synthetic skin had been grafted over the more severe parts of his injuries from the explosion, or perhaps it was to compensate for possible incisions that could have been done if there had been any internal complications. He did not know, why would they have informed him of all the details? The area giving him the most pain, the expanse of his torso where his ribs were located, was, by far, the most afflicted by the ugly bruises, tender to even the slightest brush of a fingertip. There had to be something the matter. He braced his hands on the counter before him and _breathed_ , head pounding. Resolving that a shower and fresh clothes were in order, he went about what would have normally been a habitual routine in slow, methodical steps, his body protesting every movement.

When he finally stepped out of the bright, offset space back into the comforting dimness of his quarters, he nearly did not notice the dark clad individual seated casually on his bed. Ren cursed his ignorance, for he knew that even in times of physical hardships, his mind could not be dulled. In this instance, however, it was not someone with which to be concerned. 

“Look who’s back,” drawled the Pamarthen woman’s voice, one of the Knights. She held the lightsaber in her hand, studying it carefully.

“Daija,” he said in a clipped greeting, eyeing her. “Is everything in order?”

“It is,” she replied, and then reiterated, “Of course it is. I am not your second in command for nothing…" 

Daija Danar was not one to be trifled with, to be sure. Tall, catlike, and dangerous in every respect, she was the most obvious choice for his right hand, and though she was the only female Knight of the six, what she lacked in physical prowess she made up for with a sharp mind. While most of her friends and kin from her homeworld had opted to join the opposing side, Daija had not, proving her worth and rising in the First Order’s ranks. She placed the lightsaber back from whence it came and crossed her arms. Ren watched her every move, still firmly planted just inside the room. Her eyes trailed over his battered frame – clad soley in his usual, black pants – and she arched an eyebrow.

“You look like hell,” she told him bluntly. “What happened to you?”

Ren nearly snapped that it was none of her business - his affairs were his own. His tribulations were a stroke of bad fortune and nothing more, and while suffering capture by enemy forces was a grave circumstance, it was not as if he placed himself in such a position by his own volition. He had simply been at the wrong place at the wrong time, and so he answered Daija, “I got caught in a blast. The situation grew…unfortunate.”

“How so?”

“It’s complicated.”

Daija stared at him blankly, but for all her skills of perception, she did not possess the abilities her superior did; she would never be able to sense his discomfort with her intrusion, nor would she know what had really occurred for the time being. “Well, I hope you have a good explanation for where you have been,” she all but demanded. “The Supreme Leader has grown _restless_ waiting for you to return. When you did not report back from the _Sempiternal_ , we feared the worst.”

Ren blanched at the thought of being a disappointment to his leader. “The ship was overrun. General Thiir was not answering his comm and I was injured before I could reach the bridge.”

“And then…?”

He regarded her tersely and repeated, “It’s complicated.”

It was clear that she took in his words with skepticism, pale eyes narrowing a fraction, however, she was not one to exhibit insubordination, and pressing the subject would fall into that category. Instead she told him with as much compassion as one of her detachedness could muster, “You should go to the medical facility. You look as though you might pass out.”

Ren nodded, leaving it up to her to determine the statement with which he agreed. Daija’s eyed him a short moment more before she stood, rolling her neck as he waited impatiently for her departure. Before she exited, she shot him a look, coldness once more gaining control of her sharp features. “I would not keep the Supreme Leader waiting for long, Ren. I will send word that you sought medical attention, but do not prolong his wait.”

“Yes,” he said without inflection.

It was only after Daija had left that he began to feel as though something had changed. The voices in his head, suddenly somewhat clearer, seemed to agree.

…

…

… 

Finn and Poe were nearly back to the Resistance base when the news came. Hull, their contact and First Order deserter, had chosen to accompany the two of them on the return trip to Firrerre, having decided that his services would be most self-fulfilling in working for a cause he supported. After speaking to the former Stormtrooper a bit about his past, Finn joined Poe and took up his place in the copilot’s seat, satisfied with all of the intel the cause would soon be receiving. He wondered to himself how Rey would react to the developments and felt a certain happiness at the thought of being reunited with his friend again even after such a short amount of time. When one lived the sort of high-risk life that Finn did, one learned to make every moment count. 

The navicomputer stated that they would reach their destination shortly, which is why both men thought it odd that they were being contacted when the transmission came through. Poe accepted it and a gruff voice immediately cut through the comfortable silence. 

“ _Dameron_ , _it’s Garax_.” Finn could tell immediately that something was amiss, but Poe greeted the voice with his usual charisma. 

“Lieutenant! What’s the problem, couldn’t go a day without talking to me?” It was common knowledge that Lieutenant Garax and Poe did not relate to each other well – Garax thought Poe to be too brash and Poe thought Garax to be somewhat of a stick in the mud. Finn stayed out of the interpersonal conflict as best as he could. 

“ _No_ ,” drew the lieutenant, “ _I have some unfortunate news_. _The prisoner has escaped_ – _he left the system moments ago_.”

Finn’s blood ran cold. That monster was back out there? It was just days before his trial and he _escaped_? Perhaps foul play was involved – perhaps someone had set him free and there was still danger present at the base. Finn’s hands gripped his knees tightly, tensely as he dared to ask, “Is everyone alright, Lieutenant?” Poe glanced over at him but said nothing, clearly equally concerned. Hull had walked up behind them both and waited with bated breath for an answer. 

“ _Everyone is_ … _alive_.”

All three of them breathed sighs of relief. “Well that’s – that’s great, Garax, so all we have to do is go catch that bastard again and – “

“ _He took the young, Jedi girl_ ,” interjected Garax, his voice emotionless.

Finn felt as if his heart stopped beating. He looked from Hull to Poe, gaze begging them to tell him that what he had just heard was some sort of hallucination. But Poe appeared distraught as well, at a loss for words. Finn leaned towards the console, barely keeping the fright that had risen within him at bay. “He…he took Rey?” he stammered.

“ _Yes_. _Evidently she took General Organa’s place in the hostage situation_.” 

“She _what_?” snapped Finn and Poe nearly in unison. It was Poe that said next, “We’re about ten minutes out. I expect we’ll be briefed when we return?”

“ _You will_ ,” replied Garax, and ended the transmission.

All three men fell silent. Finn’s previously steady frame of mind had descended into panic, his thoughts a wild frenzy of horrendous scenarios. They had been gone such a scant amount of time that it seemed nearly impossible that such a thing had come to pass. Precautions had been taken – preventative measures that should have ensured that the murderer would never see the light of day as a free being for the rest of his life, but it appeared now that providence, in all its unpredictability, had other plans. Finn realized he must have appeared fretted when Poe’s voice drifted over from the other side of the cockpit. 

“Hey, buddy,” said the pilot, his voice a bit higher than usual with feigned lightness, “we’ll get her back. We’ll find her and…” he faltered, but then said with as much certainty as he could muster under the circumstances, “…and she will be fine.” 

 _Nothing is sure anymore_ , Finn wanted to reply, but kept his gaze ahead and counted the seconds until the ship entered the atmosphere of Firrerre. The three passengers wasted no time in locating General Organa, Poe leading the hunt. Hull, slightly overwhelmed by the sheer _amount_ of people and equipment on the planet around him, hung back behind Finn, silent and observant. The found her in the war room, less advanced than the one on their previous base, but still functioning. She was standing by one of the displays, talking with an operative. Immediately she saw them and approached.

“Lieutenant Garax told you, I’m guessing?” she asked. All eyes were on them. A moving dark shape in the background caught Finn’s attention and yielded Chewbacca’s tall figure – the Wookie had been keeping to himself, and Finn did not need to understand the Shyriiwook tongue to interpret the anguish in the snippets of communication he’d heard after Kylo Ren’s initial capture. It had not been easy for Chewbacca in general over the course of the past three years, that much was certain.

Poe said solemnly, “He did.” Then he paused, seeming to consider his next words carefully. “Could it have been prevented?”

“Part of me wants to believe it could have but…” Leia trailed off. “Part of me knows that it would have happened eventually, maybe in the coming weeks. I hoped it wouldn’t, but now we need to focus our attention on finding Rey.”

“We won’t have to search for long,” replied Poe, turning to Hull. “This is Hull, our contact from Coruscant. He’s a First Order defector like Finn – he knows where their base is located.”

Hull stepped forward from behind the two Resistance fighters. “Ma’am,” he greeted simply with a dip of his head. Finn recognized the look that appeared in Leia’s eyes – it was the same look she had given _him_ when they first met. 

It was hope.

…

…

… 

Walls of dark, impenetrable metal accosted Rey from every angle. The cell in which the stormtroopers had placed her was small, clearly not designed with the intention to house long-term occupants. The troopers had been on edge the entire walk to the detention blog, not daring to take off the cuffs that still bound her wrists. She wanted nothing more than to stretch her arms, but she feared any sudden movements would trigger the horrid tightening mechanisms.

 _What was I thinking_ …? She asked herself, lowering her gaze to the floor from her cross-legged perch on a bench, the only furnishing within. Rey hoped with everything she had that, until her fate was decided by the higher powers, she would be provided with daily refresher visits and nourishment, though she would not put it past the First Order to enact the barbaric punishment of denying her even this basic care. They would never get any information from her anyway – she’d bested one of their agents once and she could do it again. But then again, Kylo Ren knew where the Resistance base was, now, and would no doubt relay the information to his leader as soon as humanly possible. The information in her mind would be useless.

Perhaps, in his haste to leave Firrerre, Ren had failed to see this, or perhaps he was truly just daft, though Rey supposed it was more than likely the former over the latter. The man was cunning from all reports, volatile, yes, but strategic and surreptitious. He had not been seen for many months before his capture, operating under the radar of even the most vaunted Resistance spies; he was no idiot.

Ren’s intelligence levels aside, Rey knew one thing was for certain: there was no way out of her predicament at the current time. Nothing could be done as long as the stun cuffs were on her wrists – these devices were used to restrain creatures twice her size and strength of all sorts. She would have to bide her time, being patient until an opportunity presented itself, and pray that the fate she feared would not befall her.

…

…

…

Ren’s sudden presence in the medical bay reaped various reactions. Some, mostly sentient beings, were surprised that the leader of the Knights had escaped his capture, for word traveled quickly amongst the ranks, down through the officers to the soldiers and lower ranking staff members. Other reactions were aloof. These were observed in the medical droids, manufactured for efficiency and health-related tasks, not normal, mortal reactions. A silence had fallen over the facility, workers pausing at their stations and with their patients to look upon the dark figure in their doorway as if they had never seen a human man before. He knew why they looked at him so oddly, though: he wore no helmet. His had been lost to the enemy, and so, until he could get his hands on another one, his naked face would remain perceived. Ren eyed them all before approaching the nearest droid, trying his best to conceal his pain.

“I’ve sustained injuries and will have them tended to at once,” he ordered with as much authority as he could muster.

“Right away, sir,” droned the droid, proceeding to scan Ren’s body. “I am detecting damage to the ribs, a minor concussion, skin lacerations, and no sight in the right eye.”

“Yes, yes, I know all of that,” retorted Ren, hand on his ribs again. “Fix the problems." 

“Of course sir.” 

The ribs were the first to be tended to. As it turned out, the enemy had initially attempted nearly successfully to heal them, but his escape had aggravated the injury and undone much of the original healing. Bacta, he was told, would see to it that everything was righted in a relatively short amount of time. The one issue that could not be helped without additional medical interference was his eye – bacta could not cure blindness, it turned out, and Ren’s only option for sight again was specific procedures paired with artificial, ocular receptor implants. He decided against such an endeavor until a more opportune time presented itself. 

It was hours later, after the agreed-upon treatment took place, that Ren awoke from the sedative the staff had administered. Immediately did he press tentative fingers to his ribs, and, when no pain registered, he allowed himself a moment of relieved relaxation on the medical bed. He would have to leave soon, he would have to meet with leader Snoke, but for a blessed moment, Ren simply tuned out the sounds of the med-bay and stared at the ceiling above.

When the whispering in his head broke his senseless reverie, it was accompanied this time by an odd sensation, a _tug_ of his consciousness. His brows drew together in confusion. This had never occurred before, and he sat up a bit. What he saw standing across the room nearly stole his breath.

An opaque figure, a man with wavy hair, watched him. No one else present in the facility seemed to see him, rushing by like he did not exist. It was as if the man were…

_A ghost._

Ren’s pulse quickened. The ghost did not move, staring at Ren with a sullen expression as the muddled voices in his head persisted.

Then, above them all, Ren heard a distinct voice, a single word against all the other, unfathomable whispers.

 _‘Soon_ … _’_

And suddenly, the specter was gone.


End file.
